Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Home Remedy 1968

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Debris had fallen months
before my unwanted arrival
when Grandmother gave
her unwed daughter
tar black pills to swallow
behind Tanqueray gin,
mixed turpentine and hot water
in a pea green bucket,
held mom’s flannel gown
around her stretched waist,

and told her to crouch down
as close as she could get.

Shawn R. Jones

 

Reprinted from Womb Rain
(Finishing Line Press 2008)
Womb Rain (New Women’s Voices, No. 61)

Detached

Detached

 

You watched me weep with no remorse,

unclothed my nine-year-old virginity,

massaged budding breasts with insane

pleasure as you praised the pitiless

organ that made my immoral youth.

My tiny brown innocence spread

beneath your web, sacrificing itself,

so you would never make

your way to sister’s room.

No matter how many times

I lie down, I cannot forget

the eerie shadows on the wall

in lightness, in darkness

flashbacks of you…

and me immortalized

in my recurring nightmare.

 

Shawn R. Jones

Reprinted from Womb Rain

(Finishing Line Press, 2008)

 

Author of the devotional book, Pictures in Glass Frames   http://t.co/BxiNwWRG

and the poetry chapbook, Womb Rain, 

http://www.amazon.com/Womb-Rain-New-Womens-Voices/dp/1599242699/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1337717218&sr=8-1 

Presently Untitled

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Presently Untitled

By Shawn R. Jones

 

I have always been afraid of silence

and the sounds that imply silence

like church bells tolling at twelve,

soft, faint giggles after wine,

toddlers singing nursery rhymes

in schoolyards across town,

golden pendulums swinging

behind still chains, clocks ticking

lazily behind wooden frames,

featherless gray cardinals

pacing across thin perches,

machines beeping down quiet halls,

and the insistent ring of an unanswered call,

until I heard God’s voice

drizzle before hard rain,

replacing the pain-

fully unspeakable

eerie solitude

of silence.


Copyright 2003 Shawn R. Jones

This is a poem I am currently revising. I am not sure what it is really… about, but I am sure I will better understanding of it after the fifth draft or so.  Anyway, I hope you get something out of it.  Thank you for stopping by : )

Mertle

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Mertle

 

By Shawn R. Jones

 

Pendulum hips

And Godiva

Stacked thighs

Swayed eyes

Side to side

As her chocolate

Tick switch

Of rhythm and wine,

Made time.

 

Copyright 2013 Shawn R. Jones

The Real April Fool

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The Real April Fool

By Shawn R. Jones

Heart Stopping

Soul slopping slime

Slim talking

Knee knocking rhyme

Still Stalking

Hips before mind

Will woo you

Line after line

Copyright 2013 Shawn R. Jones

Fix It!

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Fix It!

By Shawn R. Jones

 

Fine chicks

Smack gum

Click heels

Switch hips

For addicts

Kicking it

Ghetto Rich

In ditch

 

Copytright 2013 by Shawn R. Jones

Red Heart Brown

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Red Heart Brown

By Shawn R. Jones

 

The sun rose black coal-

colored rays

To a heartache

Earthquaking ground.

Limbs hollered

From a wrecked raggedly

Slow pumping mound

Beans and cornbread

Weighed me down-

Loved me brown-

A Food rebound

Pound after pound

Your gravy

lazy heartbreaking

arms my crown

 

Copyright 2013 Shawn R. Jones

*I thought I would try to write some bluesy poetry : )

A Rainy Morning Before School

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A Rainy Morning Before School

 

By Shawn R. Jones

 

Pliers turn on a shower

with no knob.

Rusty water falls

in a cracked porcelain tub

with chipped lion’s feet.

Five children make up

something to eat

like sugar sandwiches

or spoiled mayonnaise

on a stale roll,

so they can eat

in front of a coal burning stove

before they walk to school

with soggy cardboard

in the bottom

of worn out shoes.

 

Reprinted from Womb Rain

(Finishing Line Press, 2008)

Weary

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Weary

 

My mind confesses

Too profusely

To the brain.

Wrinkled fibers

Aged by raw experience

Soak heated erosions

In cushioned flesh

Till tumors swell

Then burst

Like flaming ticks.

 

Shawn R. Jones

Reprinted from Womb Rain

(Finishing Line Press, 2008)

Image

Rewind

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DSCN0798

Rewind

In my adult life

I yearn for simplicity

of peaceful childhood.

Shawn R. Jones